The Dark Riders
by MB.Hollowheart
Summary: Two undead, a plot within the Horde, and an Ex-Defias member hiding on local farm. The tale of perhaps one of the most famous stories in Duskwood involving the Scythe pf Elune.


The Dark Riders

Pacing the dimly lit halls of the barracks in Stonard a lone orc warrior, Commander Ruag, clad in glorious red armor had a worried look on his face. As he stared into the gloomy swamps the wind began to howl, he seemed almost enchanted by the eerie silence of the Swamps of Sorrow. The quietness of his deep thought was broken by the stomping of a single orc grunt with two shadowy visitors behind him.

"Commander Ruag." said the grunt as he saluted, "Your…guests are here."

"Excellent. Welcome sons of the Horde. I trust your journey through the marshes was a safe one?" said Commander Ruag as he turned to face his visitors.

The visitors were covered in black hoods; however Ruag could tell by the smell they were undead. Skinny rotting humanoid figures in long cloaks, abominations in the eyes of many. Deathstalkers is what they were called in the Undercity, the poison hand of the banshee queen. Now their service was called upon by the Horde of Stonard.

"Hah, these swamps are almost more comfortable then the horrors of Duskwood…almost." Replied the first Deathstalker as he removed his hood.

Ruag shivered at the sight of the creature's face. Deathly white skin covered by a black leather belt, no doubt to hold the former human's face together. His mouth gaped open; clearly his jaw was broken before his death. Sensing the stares he was receiving, the forsaken merely smirked.

"I am Deathstalker Zraedus," continued the undead "Behind me is Apothecary Faustin. We were both assigned to the Begger's Haunt in Duskwood as you know."

"Yes we heard of your band of forsaken from one of our sources…"

Apothecary Faustin emitted a croaking noise at the end of the Commander's sentence, almost chuckling.

"What is it your Warchief wills of us?" said Zraedus.

"No doubt in your time in Duskwood you have noticed the frightening increase of numbers of the wolfmen, the Worgen who hunt in the forest in the dead of night." Continued Ruag.

"Indeed, they have proven a nuisance in our scouting of Darkshire."

"Now pay attention, what I am about to tell you is top secret within the Horde, even the Horde's most trusted members. We believe based on reports in Ashenvale that…the Worgen come from a certain Scythe brought here by a traveling night elf."

"The Scythe of Elune, Commander."

"So you have heard of it?"

"We've been tracking the human who has it for several days now."

So, they knew of it, thought the Commander. They knew of its location as well. Something puzzled him, as the question lingered in his thoughts. They had the means and the information, why would these undead not claim the artifact after immediately discovering its general location? Why would they await the order of the Warchief? He continued to dig into the mystery behind the forsaken's lethargic behavior.

"The Warchief believes the wolfmen may prove to be valuable allies…and such an object in the wrong hands would…well… you have seen what's become of Duskwood."

"Morbent Fel, is too looking for the Scythe, not to mention it's only a matter of time before the local militia in Darkshire becomes aware of its dark presence. We've already seen adventurers actively hunting the foul beasts; if something is to be done Commander now is the time. They must be…stopped" said Zraedus with a smile.

Ruag knew where this was leading instantly. The undead were not an obedient group and followed only the words of their undead leaders deep within the Undercity. They would not wait for the order of an orc, let alone the Warchief to strike, they were merely using the permission he was about to give as an excuse to butcher as many of the humans as possible. He struggled to find a way around giving permission to kill innocent humans; the same humans he struggled day after day with to maintain peace with. Though the undead spoke the truth; the humans would stop at nothing to reclaim their old lands. If they found the scythe they would attack Stonard and perhaps countless other outposts. Something had to be done now. Finding no alternative he could only sigh in defeat as he gave the final orders.

"For the safety of the Horde and others, Warchief Thrall orders the reclamation of the artifact the Scythe of Elune…by any means necessary."

Faustin was croaking more loudly now, almost uncontrollably.

"We will return shortly Commander" smiled Zraedus.

"Very well then, be quick about it."

The two dark figures exited the building, stepping out into the dank swamps before mounting on their black armed skeleton horses.

"Summon Tok'kar." Said Ruag to the grunt when the two undead were out of hearing. "I don't trust those two."

Jitters sighed as he stretched from a yet another restless night. His unusual twitchiness had always been a bother but it seemed unbearable to him now considering he was in hiding. Hiding from what you ask?

Well the "what" made Jitters shiver at the thought of the mines and…those monsters, those horrors. Not to mention the Defias Brotherhood would have his head if they discovered he had disobeyed his orders and fled. He could still hear the screaming as he glared at the Scythe which he now held in his shivering hands. That night was just a horrible nightmare he wished he could just forget, yet this…thing he subconsciously kept in his possession, a memento of sorts.

No, somehow he knew that this gnarled piece of wood tainted with soft glowing letters in ancient tongue was more than just a keepsake of memory. This was a powerful object, like something out of legend like Uther's Girdle or the Ashbringer.

Hah…Ashbringer. No, this thing couldn't be a noble relic of power; it was merely a cursed artifact of misfortune, a fishing hook that merely inflicted doom upon those foolish enough to take the bait such as himself. As soon as he got out of these lands, maybe to the safety of Westfall he could dispose of the damned thing off some trader. Maybe make a small sum of money and live to forget ever having the disturbing thing. Live to forget the screams of his dearest friends as they were torn to bloody pieces.

He nervously twitched as he felt around for the ratty book he had kept with him on his travels. Finding it, he then took out a pen and a tin can he had been using to drink out of. As he attempted to take sip out of the dirty tin can, with much difficulty due to his nervous twitch, a strange gust of wind blew in from the window in the barn from the East. Deadwind.

He thought for a moment and decided to scribble a few words in his book. No sooner did he put down his writings did he hear approaching footstep from downstairs.

"Those orcs don't seem to trust us very much Faustin." muttered Zraedus from under his hood.

"Would you prefer they welcome us with open arms, Zraedus?" croaked Faustin, "We are a cautious people, and they don't trust us because we don't trust them. This is how it has always been."

As they crossed the stone bridge which allowed passage through the gaping canyon that was Deadwind Pass, Zraedus let out a chilling laugh. Trust. The memories of his once noble life of virtue as a paladin of the Scarlet Crusade were quickly disposed of by the nightmare of their betrayal against him and their accusations. He gripped his stomach where his burn marks still existed.

"Forgive me; I still have memories of the nobleness…no foolishness of my former life. Those orcs have no idea yet what power lurks with that Scythe."

Faustion let another croaking laugh escape his mouth. His companion had indeed become as coldhearted as death itself.

"Indeed. Be vigilant. Darkshire approaches."

For Sarah Yorgen, the day was like any other in the forests. Well as normal day as possible in the dark forests of Duskwood. Day by day the twilight enveloped the land, while the farmers struggled to maintain their former activities. Those who could afford it moved to Westfall where the harvest was flourishing, while only the unfortunate or the brave remained in the cursed lands.

Her husband, Sven, was one of the bravest men she ever knew and she felt safe when he was home. Still the roads to Grand Hamlot, or Darkshire as it was now nicknamed, became so dangerous with unnaturally violent beasts of the wilderness that Sven was forced to carry weapons with him.

Sarah longed for the safety of her children, and wanted more than anything to allow them to grow up in a peaceful land, not a damned one. Even though they had the money to afford the move to Westfall, Sven would not abandon his farm, which he stubbornly held onto out of bravery.

"Mamma, you seem upset." Said her daughter, awakening her mother from her blank staring.

"Oh it's nothing honey, now where's your brother? Is he still asleep?" she replied.

"No he's talkin to the shaky man in the barn."

Sarah rolled her eyes, for a week now her children told Sven and her about the "shaky man" in the barn. Sven searched through the barn carefully and found nothing or any trace of anyone living there, so they dismissed it as an imaginary friend of the children. Still, often when going out to feed the horses she felt a pair of eyes watch her from the shadows above. She had heard of rather…unnatural guests finding their way into the local farms, killing families in the dead of night.

She shivered and picked her daughter up into the air.

"Now now, none of that. Let's go find him."

The two undead stood over the massacre which was once a pumpkin farm. Bodies of farmhands lied mutilated as the houses were ransacked. The only being alive at the site, a simple patrolling guard hired to prevent bandit attacks, was the most unfortunate for Zraedus had him in his cold grasp.

"Where is the Scythe?" growled Zraedus to the dying guard.

"Release him Zraedus, he clearly has no idea what you're talking about." said Faustin.

"Perhaps, but perhaps you should let Lord Varimathras see-"

"You know that the Lord only wished for me to use it when one claimed to know where it was, now come we've drawn too much attention."

Zraedus grunted and released the limp body, so far they had been to nearly five farms, and he grew more and more agitated. He turned his attention to the guard gasping for air, and licked what was left of his lips in hunger.

"Still, why let all this nice meat go to waste?" Zraedus claimed with a gleem in his eye.

Faustin merely sighed and looked away as the guard screamed in agonizing pain.

The family that owned the farm Jitters was hiding on, the Yorgens, was a kind bunch of people. Their son John, who couldn't be older than four, often visited him and brought him food. He knew that the family would welcome him with open arms and offer him a bed and food but he couldn't reveal the nature of his presence. Should they know where he came from he would probably be reported to the guards after what happened. He would be arrested and it would all lead to him losing the thing he carried as his only companion and his only hope to getting as far the hell away from Duskwood as he could.

It was almost time to move on anyway, he knew if he lingered for too long he would be found by those wolfmen, or perhaps worse the Defias. He looked out the window of the barn, to see the children playing around their mother as she dug up dying crops.

The husband, Sven, should be home within the hour and tonight Jitters would leave for Moonbrooke. Maybe even Goldshire. He'd be gone before they even knew he was here.

Sarah had that feeling of being watched again, as she watched the barn in the corner of her eye. Something wasn't right about today, it looked like as normal a day as any in the dark forest but she felt a sense of dread overwhelm her, an approaching doom on the wind.

She hoped Sven would return soon from Grand Hamlot, but somehow every minute seemed to last an hour. She continued tending to the crops but suddenly paused to what she could have sworn was a scream in the forest.

Something was not right indeed.

She put down her shovel and was about to take her children inside when she heard the pounding sounds of horses galloping coming from the road to Darkshire.

She turned and saw two dark riders slowly making their way down the road. She knew right away they weren't human.

"Mamma, who are they?" Said her daughter as Sarah held her and her son close to her.

"I don't know sweetie but don't worry, I'm sure they are just passing through."

She hoped these riders would continue along the road and ignore them but still slowly they approached the huddling family.

Every inch of her body told her to run, run and hide from these dark riders. She tried to calm herself with such thoughts as "They are just asking for directions, they'll be on their way before you know it."

Now more than ever did she wish Sven were here.

Zraedus could almost laugh at the pitiful sight of the cowering family, knowing very well that doom was upon them. The fear they showed as Faustin and he dismounted was absolutely delightful. The mother knew she was going to die today. Zraedus gripped his sword showing the blood that stained it with pride as Faustin spoke the reason for their intrusion.

"The Scythe of Elune." Croaked Faustin.

Jitters was watching the whole event safely from the attic of the barn. He did not know which to worry more for; his own life or the life of the family that was about to be butchered. When the black creature spoke in the shrilly voice "The Scythe of Elune" he thought for a moment.

"The Scythe…..the…THE SCYTHE?!" he said aloud.

The two creatures quickly turned towards the barn at the unexpected noise. Jitters quickly covered his mouth and hid away from the window. Damn! Did they spot him as well?! Did they know where he was hidden??

While trying to control his shivering body he looked at the Scythe that lay on the floor of the attic. He knew yet again that his own greed had brought the deaths of others. He could only pray that they would at least pass over him and he dared not move again, save only to peak one eye out of the window.

Sarah smiled with a glimmer of hope. So there was someone inside the barn, there was a way at least her children would be saved. She suddenly remembered a prank she once played on her brother once as a child, which strangely might be the life of her children. She had to calm down, so she took a deep breath and began her gamble.

"The Scythe?" she spoke in the calmest voice possible, catching the attention of the two monsters.

"Of course I do. Who here wouldn't?" she continued, laughing nervously.

The creatures merely stared at her, turning their full attention to her. Perfect.

"I'll take you, all of you. But the way is far is far, and my children would slow us. We must leave them." She tried her best to keep the beads of sweat from falling down her forehead. She was counting on whoever hid in the barn to carry her children to safety once she led them out of sight. At least they…and Sven would be safe.

Jitters prayed for his own safety "Please, let them believe." Certainly he would take the children with him when he left. They were the ones that fed him after all; he couldn't bring himself to leave the wife's children to die after what she was about to give up for his escape.

But still if this is the terror the Scythe brought they couldn't know they he had the Scythe or know where he was off to. He would leave them at Sentinel Hill and be on his way.

No one would know where he would head off to, and the secret about the Scythe would be known only by him.

Jitters continued to pray her simple trick would be enough to lure the riders away.

Faustin and Zraedus debated if they should believe the woman, clearly she was trying to prevent her children's death but had she really seen the Scythe.

Suddenly a dark voice filled Faustin's head, the voice of his lord, Varimathras. He turned to face his master's call.

"Let me see…if she really has seen what she claims to have…use the orb I gave you Faustin, I will learn what she knows.

Faustin smiled under his hood, the master sought to possess her and see if she spoke the truth, which of course was an extremely delightfully painful process. He reached into his cloak to pull out a pure white gem, with his cold dead hands he gestured the bauble towards the woman. With much bravery the woman stared in the light that illuminated from the gem. A hand formed from the bauble and slowly reached for her head. Faustin was croaking madly.

"Now…let us see what you have seen." Whispered the voice telepathically.

The hand violently grabbed her as the mind of Lord Varimathras flooded her own. The woman appeared to be screaming but no sound came from her mouth. Her eyes, which were wide open, rolled back into her head. After several moments of the torture, with the children looking on with tears in their eyes, the hand quickly released the woman and fled into the bright orb. In an angry voice that seemed to shake the earth their lord yelled.

"THIS WOMAN LIES. SHE HAS NOT SEEN THE SCYTHE."

Faustin recoiled from the power of the orb; such a power used by Varimathras through him weakened him. He turned to Zraedus who was slowly moving towards the woman on her knees. He simply whispered the final command.

"The Lord has spoken. Kill them."

With a grim maggot filled smile Zraedus took up his blade and raised it above the shivering woman.

Jitters nearly vomited at the sight of the poor woman's decapitation. He saw that both children screamed and fled in separate directions. The boy, John, went into the barn below him while the daughter ran screaming into the house.

"He-ellp! Please! Someone! Daddy! Shaky man!" cried poor John as he tried to claw up to the attic where Jitters lay shivering.

Jitters desperately tried to block out the cries of the boy, but he happened to not notice that the boy's pounding had knocked the scythe down into the hay. The figure who had slain the boy's mother now stood in the doorway, John frantically searched for something to defend himself with. It just so happened that his foot stepped on something sharp in the hay on the ground, he pulled out the wicked scythe and pointed it at the rider. Immediately the rider stopped.

After a long pause the rider spoke "Boy…where did you get that…"

John remained silent and slowly backed up against the wall as the hellish figure advanced on the sobbing boy.

"Give it to me," continued the figure "Give it to me and I will spare you and your sister."

All Jitters could do was watch from above as the rider cornered the poor boy.

"Fool!" He thought "Give it to him! Save yourself! Run away!"

The boy didn't obey, either too lost in rage at the death of his mother or paralyzed with fear. He glared at the advancing rider, prepared to fight.

"No you stupid kid! Give it to him! Don't be brave! Don't be like your mother! You need to stay alive, you need to flee!" yelled Jitters at the boy in his thoughts.

Needless to say the boy never obeyed Jitters' desperate pleas to flee; he charged at the rider and was mercilessly struck down.

"Foolish boy…"whisper Jitters as tears streamed down his cheeks.

The slaughter continued for several minutes. Faustin merely looked on Zraedus's gleeful butchering, until at last content with his fun he turned to his comrade.

"What of the one hiding in the attic?"

Faustin thought for a moment and smiled.

"It's cowards who live in ways worse than any death. Besides…"continued Faustin "From the looks of it we have him to thank for giving us the Scythe."

"That's not good enough for me, I still hunger." Replied Zraedus.

Faustin frowned with disgust and gave Zraedus a deathly glare.

"Zraedus, enough. Part of being a forsaken is self control. If you continue your mindless butchering I'm going to have to put you down like one of the Scourge."

Zraedus grimaced at Faustin's remark but did not bother to question him. Faustin revealed to him the Scythe and continued.

"Besides, we mustn't keep Lord Varimathras waiting."

It was an hour after the rider's leave did Jitters dare move from the safety of the attic. Slowly he moved past the remains of the wife and her children, shivering at the gruesome sight.

"What do I do now? Leave?! No one can know about this…If they did, I'd probably get the death penalty for bringing this upon these poor people." he thought to himself with a shiver.

He suddenly remembered the journal still up in the attic. His face went pale. The journal kept a record of the findings of the Scythe! No one would believe his story, some dark riders from Deadwind coming down and killing a random family when there was a stranger in their attic for a week!

"Hide it! I must hide it!" he said aloud.

Thinking quickly he grabbed his cloak and found a spot near the barn and house behind a stump. It was now nearly dark and the last place one would want to be in Duskwood was out in the open at night, he had to hurry. Digging with his bare hands he created a small hole in ground and quickly deposited the book with much haste. However as he carefully covered up his work, a voice in the night made the hair on his neck stand up.

"Who's there?! Show yourself!" yelled the angry voice.

Jitters fled into the barn once again, holding his breath as he passed the boy's body. As the source of the voice seemed to follow him, Jitters waited for whoever it was to find him sweating now uncontrollably. Still, no one seemed to appear. Taking his chances, Jitters had a rare moment of bravery and poked his head out of the barn.

The source of the voice was none other than Sven Yorgen who had just returned from Darkshire. There Jitters saw him huddled over the body of his now dead wife, clutching the remains of her head in his hands. Sven sensing Jitters screamed at him.

"Who did this?! Come out you coward!" he barked.

Jitters dared not approach him; he stood there shivering debating on to reveal himself or make a run for it.

"Well?! I have a weapon on me! Answer!"

Mustering up all the courage he could Jitters responded to the distraught man.

"D-d-d-d-ark r-r-r-r-iders…the-they came from-m-m-m Deadwind-d-d-d."

"Dark riders?! Where?! Show me!"

As Sven rose and started moving towards the barn Jitters took off into the dead of night. Not looking back for a moment, not stopping until he reached the main road.

Sven attempted to give chase but paused to notice the deep horse tracks scattered around his farm. If the shadowy figure spoke the truth then...these tracks would led him to the dark riders. Wasting no time Sven took off after the riders.

"Do you have the replacement?" croaked Faustin.

"Indeed, right here, crafted in exact likeness according to the Lord, even infused with dark magic…" replied Zraedus as they crossed the pass through Deadwind with Karazhan in the distance.

"Lord Varimathras will be pleased with our accomplishment."

"I fear he will not" stated an orc who had suddenly appeared behind both of them.

No sooner than did the orc speak did an arrow pierce Zraedus's skull, causing him to tumble over the cliffs into the sharp rocks below. Faustin turned to face their attacker but was met by a powerful blow to the back of his head. He collapsed on the ground, his skull scattered.

Coughing Faustin muttered "Seems like the forsaken are…no longer trusted…anywhere."

Tok'kar, the one who fired the arrow, stood above the dying forsaken and stomped what was left of his head in. Satisfied, he took the prize, the Scythe of Elune and turned to the corpse.

"It is not your people we don't trust, but the maggots that lurk along the underbelly of the Horde. The parasites of the Horde will be crushed as will your master…in time."

Spitting at the body, he turned to the other three orcs who were with him.

"Let's return to Stonard brothers, Commander Ruag will no doubt be interested in who our 'allies' true master is."

"What do you suppose will be done with that cursed thing?" spoke a grunt.

After pausing for a few moments the orc responded. "Perhaps it is merely weapon to be used against our foes or perhaps the worgen may prove to be new allies in this time of uncertainty."

He looked down at the rotting body that was once Faustin and kicked it into the gorge to join his companion.

"I suppose whichever it is, it was meant to be."

Epilogue

Another day in the Grizzly Hills passed as Ivan spent the time drinking and smoking. He stared into the sky as the thuds of battle rumbled in the distance. As the middle aged human stomped out his cigarette he noticed an adventurer approaching and gave a happy sigh.

"Are you part of the groups of trappers in the area?" asked the heavily armed hero.

"Indeed I am, what can we do yah for?" replied Ivan smiling "You've brought something for us?"

With a thud the adventurer dropped a large cedar chest on its side, displayed it to Ivan who grinned.

"You did it! You recovered the Sc…you recovered the chest that the Horde stole from us. We thank you adventurer." Cheered Ivan.

"Yea yea…now about your end of the bargain…"

Ivan gave out a hardy chuckle. "Very well hero. Your people kept their end of the bargain. Tell Dumont that we'll honor the deal."

"Thank you for your time then." The hero turned and left to tell his commander the good news.

Ivan waited until the adventurer was out of sight before giving a slight laugh and putting the chest on his lap. As he opened the chest he whistled merrily as its contents. He gave off a huge smile, revealing very pronounced canine teeth.

"Yes sire," He said to himself "We'll honor that deal…Lord Greymane will certainly be VERY happy with that deal…"


End file.
